Angels in Disguise
by Miss Maggie Ray
Summary: After the war, George Weasley is left sad and alone, with only Firewhiskey and a knife to keep himself company. What will he do? And just when his life is about to go down the tube, an angel appears to him in his time of need.


Bright sunlight streamed into the house as I woke up. My head was pounding and I felt like I was about to vomit. I groaned and turned over onto my stomach. It was hard getting up in the mornings, especially when you feel like you have no point in life.

_Fred is gone, Fred is gone_, I repeated to myself.

The light radiating from the sun was becoming too much to bear. I brought my hands up to my face to cover my eyes, when I noticed something I had not thought about in a while. Small red slits ran from my wrist all the way up to where the skin folds into the under-elbow. A wave of guiltiness passed through my body as I realised I would have to cover them up for the whole day.

_Mum will certainly question it,_ I thought, _maybe there's a spell that will hide the scars_.

Wondering why my head felt like it was about to burst, I slowly got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. A large bottle of Firewhiskey sat perched on the counter. And I suddenly understood why my head was pounding and I felt like I was about to vomit. Depression had slowly begun to build since the war but it had never been as bad as last night. I couldn't bear it and the only thing that I thought would make me feel better was a great big bottle of Firewhisky. I quickly grabbed a Hangover Potion from the cabinet and downed it in one gulp, already starting to feel better.

"There really isn't anything to live for here," I whispered to myself gravely.

I glanced around the bathroom and noticed something glinting beneath the cabinet. Bending down to the floor, I carefully pulled out a long silver dagger between my thumb and pointer finger. A wicked and dark thought came into my head.

_Just a little slit on my neck, and I'll be through. It won't take much._

Raising the knife to my neck, a tear went tumbling down my check before I closed my eyes. The piercing cold metal touched soft skin and I pressed in gently. The barrier of life and death was so easy to break. Too easy. I paused for a moment, taking the knife off of my neck. Did I really want to do this? My life was something I could never get back if I killed myself. Then again, my emotions were bearing down on me like weights on a scale. It was a hard choice. Finally making a decision, I put the knife back up to my neck and pressed in once again. A small slit of red appeared as I looked in the mirror. This was easier than I thought. Right when I was about to fully cut myself, there was a knock on my door.

I jumped over to where the cabinet was and kicked the knife back under it. If whoever was knocking at the door found out what I was doing to myself, I would be dead.

The doorknob turned just as I had finished hiding the knife. It was only Ginny, with a full basket of laundry in her arms.

"Mum told me to bring you a fresh pile of clothes," she said cheerfully, thrusting a blue basket full of laundry into my arms.

"Thanks, Gin," I said, closing the door.

I rolled my eyes. How could she be so optimistic when a war had just occurred? She was acting like he had never died. I choked down the lump that had just formed in my throat.

While thinking of Ginny, I forgot all about my dark intentions and changed into a clean outfit consisting of a pair of jeans and a white shirt. Brushing my teeth and hair, I headed out the door and grabbed two long socks. Cutting holes at the bottom for my fingers, I slipped them on my arms and looked into the mirror. The cover-ups actually looked like they belonged with the outfit. Hopefully Mum would agree with me.

By that time, the smell of succulent pancakes had wafted through the door of my room and permeated it. My favourite meal. A vision of sweet maple syrup drenching the wheat pancakes danced into my head and I dashed for the door.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the kitchen table, forks in their hands and plates in front of them. Instead of eating, they were gazing into each other's eyes in a way that would make a person sick - especially me.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

No answer. They were immersed in each other. Blegh!

Grabbing a plate, I loaded it up with pancakes and saturated them with sugary syrup. I jammed all of them into my mouth at once, and then remembering that patient knife waiting upstairs, swallowed and started climbing the stairs to my room.

However, before I could even walk onto the second step, Mum's shrill voice rang through the house and up to my ears.

"George! You are already late for work! Get your arse down here and leave!"

I groaned, remembering what I was doing at work today. I had to interview every single person who had applied to take Fred's place as co-manager of the shop. This was going to be a hard and tough day.

* * *

Seated on a red cushion couch in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a clipboard in my hands, I prepared to review the applicants for Fred's position. A long list needed to be sorted through. I glanced at the list of names and one popped out at me almost immediately: Hannah Abbott. Remembering her from back in my Hogwarts days, I quickly shuffled into the waiting room and called her name.

We both took a seat on the sofa as she smiled warmly and shook my hand.

"So how have you been, George?" she asked nicely.

"Oh, I've been okay. Thanks for asking. How are you?"

"I've been fine, just a little scratches and bruises from the war but nothing major," she answered.

I hadn't seen Hannah in so long. She had really grown into quite the woman. Her shoulder-length hair had grown out to the middle of her back and she had died it black. She was slim and tall.

"Same here. But they're all worth it for the downfall of an evil wizard," I replied.

"Absolutely."

A long, awkward silence followed.

"So…" said Hannah. She drummed her fingers on her knees as she looked at everything in the room but me. This was becoming quite awkward. "Are you ready to start the interview?"

"Oh! Of course," I answered. I had been so caught up in the moment that I completely forgot that there was an interview to be had. I picked up my clipboard and pencil, and looked up at Hannah.

"What makes you want to apply for this job?"

"Well, I used to work at Eyelop's Owl Emporium. That was one of the many places that was destroyed during the war. I guess it was a good thing, though, because I was planning to quit anyway. Their wages were low and it just was not a very good place to work. I'm so glad I had a chance to apply for this position!"

"I am glad you are excited. On to question number two. Do you have any special skills that might help you in your quest for this job?"

"Well, I am very persuasive. I can get almost anyone to buy something. I am also very friendly towards people." She smiled and waited for my answer.

"That sounds very good, Hannah. Thank you for coming in today. I'll be in touch with you very soon."

I could tell she was surprised at me for only asking two questions. She smiled at me as she leaned over and shook my hand.

Hannah thanked me and exited the room, her robes billowing behind her. I groaned and leaned back in my chair as I realised that I still had to interview at least ten more people. I knew I did not intend to actually listen to them, since Hannah did so well with her interview. But I knew I had to at least pretend that I was interested in what the rest of them had to say. This job was tougher than I thought.

* * *

When I arrived home after interviewing the rest of the applicants, Hannah was still the one who had sounded best for the job. Throwing a handful of sand-like powder into the blazing orange fire in the hearth, I Flooed her house. The flames turned emerald green. It took a while, but her face finally popped into the heated coals.

"Oh, hi George!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Hello, Hannah. Just letting you know that you got the job. Please be at the at the shop at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. Sound good?" I queried.

"Of course. Thank you so much for the job, Mr. Weasley!" Hannah answered. She seemed so excited about the job, and I was happy for her.

I was about to tell Hannah to call me 'George' when she popped back out of the green flames and into her own house.

* * *

At three o'clock in the afternoon the next day, Hannah had already sold over thirty items to customers. She was very persuasive and could get almost anyone to buy something. She had just finished selling a Self-Correcting Quill to a shopper when I pulled her into one of the back offices.

"I just want to say thank you so much for filling Fred's position. This has been hard on me. I know I've already told you this but I'm just so glad that you applied for this job."

"You're welcome, Mr. Weasley," Hannah responded.

"Please call me George."

"You're welcome, George," she said, as she pulled me into a hug.

At first, I was unresponsive to her warm touch. Nevertheless, I gently melted into her arms. Our bodies felt as if they were meant to be together. Tears came running down my face. A salty pool of tears landed on the back of Hannah's shirt. I sniffled and pulled out of the embrace.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go ballistic on you."

"It's okay, George, I know what you're going through. My sister died during the war."

At Hannah's shocking revelation, I was the one who pulled her into a hug. Because we had so much in common, I knew we were going to be great friends.


End file.
